


shades of red

by cantfoolajoker (lichmutual)



Category: Persona 3
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Canon but to the Left, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Persona 3 Spoilers, Romantic Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:15:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29277558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lichmutual/pseuds/cantfoolajoker
Summary: Unlike most people, Akihiko Sanada has always seen life in color. It isn't until October 5th when he realizes how much he's taken it for granted.
Relationships: Aragaki Shinjiro/Sanada Akihiko
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	shades of red

**Author's Note:**

> i've worked on this on and off for a few months, so it's my first fic of 2021! i hope it's enjoyable despite how sad this is gonna be

Color was something Akihiko had taken for granted. After all, he’d always seen in it; there was never a time he could remember where things were monochrome.

He was considered a lucky one. Soulmates were meant to be a one-in-a-million chance; sure, you could go your whole life without having met yours, but most people found theirs at some point late in their lives. Akihiko, before he was even made aware of this phenomenon, had been set for what he felt was life.

“What does he look like?” Miki asked, tugging on her older brother’s sleeve, peeking around the corner at the new kid in the orphanage that was unpacking his few belongings.

Akihiko didn’t know how to describe what he was seeing. It was like watching life bleed into the surroundings around this boy the more he stared. His hair was toned like the trees, and his eyes were bright despite the monochromatic still lingering with them.

“Uh….” Akihiko trails off, ignoring the insistent tugging from Miki as he stared. The walls have color too — the same tone as the sky. The wire bed frames match the boy's eyes, and the dark ensemble of his wardrobe doesn’t detract from the highlights of the fabric that Akihiko hadn’t been able to discern until now.

The boy finally looked over and met his eyes. Akihiko could see his eyes widen in the same deer-in-headlights expression he had, realizing he’s in the same situation.

The boy named Shinjiro gave a shy smile and a wave. That was what had sold Akihiko on their connection.

* * *

The first thing he and Shinjiro did was learn the names of the colors. They were still kids, so the names came easily once they were able to see and associate them with the imagery.

Shinjiro holds up a blank notecard. “What color is this?”

“Uhm…”

“It’s the same color as your hair, stupid.”

“I know, I know!” Akihiko tells him, swatting at him in threat rather than with the intent to hit him. He settles back, still thinking. “Uhm…. Hm….”

“Do you need a hint?”

“Shinji!” Another threatening swat.

Shinjiro just sticks his tongue out

“Hm…. White?”

“Ding, ding, ding,” his soulmate laughs, setting down the card. He then picks up the next one. Akihiko knows this one in a heartbeat.

“Brown!” Akihiko says excitedly, eyes gleaming. He couldn’t forget it. It was the color of Shinji’s hair!

“Wow, now you’re suddenly smart,” Shinjiro snarks, setting the card down, and this time Akihiko isn’t afraid to make due on his previous threats. They always roughhoused, so when Akihiko tries to tackle Shinjiro down and hit him senselessly, the caretakers turned a blind eye and huffed over their behavior.

Besides, Shinjiro ends up laughing and hitting him back. It was a “them” thing, something signature of their partnership. They only stopped when Miki intervened to scold them both for behaving like that.

* * *

Red was a color Akihiko couldn’t forget.

The heat of the fire wasn’t the thing he was ever going to identify first when he returns to that moment in time, watching the orphanage burn down with people still inside.

Shinjiro held him back as the only person capable of even doing so — the caretakers didn’t know how to handle Akihiko, but Shinjiro did after the few years they had spent together.

“Shinji!” he had yelled. His hand ripped a part of Shinjiro’s old shirt, gripping the black fabric as he struggled all the same. Akihiko’s eyes stung from the ash and his tears. “She’s in there! Let me go!”

Shinjiro still had bruises even weeks later after the event, all because he had refused to let go. The color purple didn’t look good on Shinjiro, and Akihiko felt sick knowing he’d done that to him.

* * *

It was middle school when Akihiko and Shinjiro received their personas.

They were a team that stood back to back in fights, covering each others’ weaknesses and fighting to their individual strengths. It wasn’t a surprise to Akihiko that their personas complimented this dynamic, with the hard-hitting Castor and the supporting Polydeuces.

“Can we fight more?” Akihiko asks, eyes gleaming as he’s met with Kirijo heiress Mitsuru’s hard eyes.

“No,” she answers curtly, carefully putting her sword into its sheath. “We will return and report our findings to Ikutsuki-san, followed by an immediate retirement for school tomorrow morning.”

Akihiko deflates, with Shinjiro knocking his shoulder. “C’mon. You need to sleep for that boxing match tomorrow, idiot,” he huffs, looking ahead, and Akihiko knew why Shinjiro didn’t want to meet his eyes. It’d show the worry that he carefully concealed under the layers that he had put on over the years.

Still, nothing could escape Akihiko about Shinjiro. It was why Akihiko chose not to press the issue, returning to the Iwatodai dormitory with them both.

That night, he sat on his bed with his evoker in his hands. Akihiko could hear the shuffling in the room next to his; Shinjiro was preparing to settle down for bedtime and here was Akihiko, still up.

Gray was another color that Akihiko had associated with Shinjiro. Sure, Akihiko knew his own eyes were gray, but there was something different to Shinjiro’s. Was it their neutrality? The collected stare he had? Or was it related to his scolding glance and annoyance that flashed through them whenever Akihiko did something to get on his nerves?

This…. thing though, it was also gray. It wasn’t like Shinjiro’s warmth. It was just cold in his grasp.

 _“Are you hesitant?”_ The familiar words of his persona ring in the back of his head.

Akihiko snorts and sets his evoker down at his bedside.

“It’s nothing,” he answers out loud, and he decides it’s time to turn over for sleep if Polydeuces was due to start bugging him.

* * *

“Has your hair always been red?”

Mitsuru pauses, bringing fingers up to lace through her locks. While stiff as stone, Akihiko could tell she was hesitant. “What do you mean?”

Akihiko hums. “Dunno. Just a thought I had,” he admits, shrugging his shoulders.

Mitsuru is quiet, lowering her hand as he feels her eyes on him. “Are you thinking about Aragaki?”

The shift from Shinjiro’s given name to last name still stung for Akihiko to hear ever since he left.

“Mitsuru —” The words catch in Akihiko’s throat.

Red reminded him of the fire. Red reminded him of the deep maroon color of Shinjiro’s coat. It reminded him of when he was held in his arms and he refused to be let go.

“You know you can’t change his mind,” Mitsuru says gently, attempting to be comforting in her own right as she places a hand on Akihiko’s shoulder.

Akihiko shrugs her off.

“I think I’m going to go for a run,” he says, taking his leave from the room.

“I want you to be back before it’s late,” Mitsuru tells him, her voice becoming distant the more his feet move. “Takeba should be bringing back a meal for us three soon.”

_It should be four._

* * *

Akihiko had always been glad every day he woke up with color in his sights; after all, it meant another day Shinjiro was still alive in this world.

They had been told when they were kids what it meant to lose your soulmate.

“You would slowly lose all the colors,” the woman explained, ruffling Akihiko’s hair against his will. Shinjiro tensed beside him in defense, but when Akihiko took his hand, it calmed him. “Make sure to take care of each other, okay?”

Akihiko had scoffed then, unaware of what the future held in store for them both. He had thought that was a ridiculous request. _Why would I ever be separated from Shinji?_

Now, Akihiko was faced with the blinding light of a gunshot and the sound of a body hitting the floor.

“Shinji!”

He’s panting hard as he kneels, pulling the slumped Shinjiro off of Ken. One glance at the kid tells him he’s shaken up, and he remembers Shinjiro’s request to him a week earlier.

“Take care of Amada, will you?”

“Why?” Akihiko asked, frustrated. “Are you going to run away again?”

He’d been met with a classic “tch” in response and Shinjiro’s back to him as he left.

Akihiko couldn’t describe how red blood dyed a maroon jacket; it got darker, staining the fabric to something incomprehensible to him.

“Shinji,” his voice is quiet, lowering his forehead to Shinjiro’s. He never had to endure Shinjiro’s dreaded headbutt. It was always soft, something Akihiko yearned for in a moment like this.

He hears SEES’ footsteps fast approaching and the variants of Shinjiro’s epithets and name.

“Take care, Aki.”

Shinjiro was a heavy mass of red by the time Akihiko was able to process what had happened.

* * *

It had already started by morning.

“Senpai, are you alright?” Fuuka asks, voice gentle as she walks outside.

Akihiko is quiet, slowly looking over at her as he processes what he’s seeing.

“Your hair….” He starts quietly, squinting. _It’s gray, like the sky._

Fuuka shuffles uncomfortably, and she dips her head. “I need to catch the train, but I hope you’re okay for today,” she tells him before turning to go.

Akihiko pauses, watching her leave before he heads back inside the dorms.

He finds himself wandering to Shinjiro’s room on his enforced day off. It was weird to Akihiko how Shinjiro never got comfortable in his room; it was still empty and beige, with only essentials around, but the shape of a picture frame at Shinjiro’s bedside table catches his eyes.

When Akihiko approaches, he realizes it’s a picture of them both and Mitsuru in middle school. The blues and greens in the background have mostly gone from his vision, but he can still see the red of their undershirts and Mitsuru’s hair. The life to Shinjiro’s skin before he left.

He loses time while waiting around Shinjiro’s bedroom, looking through his few belongings and laying on his bed to aimlessly watch the ceiling. Memories play in his mind like a video clip, where colors were vivid and bright unlike the dullness settling into him now.

Akihiko doesn’t remember though when he ended up in the gymnasium. He guesses he lost more time between catching the train and coming to school, or maybe he ran there. He isn’t quite sure of anything anymore.

He’s going through the motions as he takes the stage, approaching the picture of Shinjiro Aragaki seated on the white-clothed tables and flowers that were turning variations of dull gray by the second.

“Shinji…. why?”

Akihiko has a sob that overwhelms him, and he knows he can’t be strong anymore.

So he breaks, without his soulmate there to hold him like he used to.

_“Are you hesitating?”_

Those words ring through Akihiko’s head, and there’s a redness to them, something fiery igniting in him.

“No,” Akihiko answers firmly. He curls his hands into fists, gripping the table cloth. “I’m going to live for him.”

_“Good answer.”_

The figure that takes before Akihiko feels familiar, yet it looks different than what he’s seen before.

 _“The name is Caesar,”_ the figure speaks, and the only thing Akihiko can make out is the red cloth draping him surrounding a small man in his center. _“I will lend you my strength, so long as you do not lose your way.”_

When Akihiko leaves the gymnasium, he finds that the caretaker had been a liar.

All he sees is red, both in the lives of his friends and in the death that was about to come.


End file.
